


Taste on my Tongue

by williamastankova



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Hannibal Lecter's Office, Hannibal disapproves, Hannibal offers Will some type of therapy, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Sexual Frustration, Smoking, Sort of? - Freeform, Therapy, Will starts smoking, just an idea i had
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-21 01:13:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17633264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/williamastankova/pseuds/williamastankova
Summary: Will's picked up a habit Hannibal disapproves of. He decides to stop him.





	Taste on my Tongue

"You're smoking."

Hannibal didn't even try to hide the disappointment in his tone of voice, as he crossed his legs and fiddled with the pen in his hand. Even to Will, it was obvious how much this habit upset him. He didn't smile, but he could feel something budding in his chest. It wasn't pride, because he wasn't _proud_ , but it was an escape, so he took it. Apparently he inherently delighted in irking Hannibal, whatever that stemmed from. He was sure it was temporary anyway.

"On and off," he admitted, "I find it relaxes me."

Hannibal's eyes darted between him and his cigarette, which he had taken out of his pocket to provide Hannibal with evidence that he was right - a peace offering, of sorts. He knew Hannibal loved being right, so maybe that'd stop him from carrying out his plot of murdering Will for his rudeness and utter lack of care for his own physical well being. Doubtful at best.

"I see. And why... do you feel the need to relax?"

It seemed like he was trying to return the conversation back to its therapy-style, but he couldn't quite manage to stop looking at Will's smoker's mouth and picturing him lighting up a cigarette right then and there. He'd never looked so filled with hate in his entire life, and something terrible in Will loved it. It was almost like he knew Hannibal was human, after all this time, because he had a pet peeve.

"Work, mostly. Jack, FBI, et cetera." He waved his hand to accentuate his point, dismissive of whatever else he was going to say, "It's the only thing I've had to do."

"Smoke?" Hannibal tilted his head in a mocking sort of way, and raised his eyebrows.

"Work," Will punctuated with a half-roll of his eyes, showing clearly he didn't appreciate Hannibal's sarcasm. He rose from his seat and went over to the window, where he lit up the cigarette and put it neatly between his lips, careful not to let any ash or smoke get anywhere. This would only push Hannibal over the edge, he knew, and he didn't quite fancy dying on a boring Tuesday afternoon, bleeding into Hannibal's nice carpets. That'd just be insult to injury.

With the silence that filled the room, Will might have expected Hannibal to have vanished entirely. He hadn't heard any footsteps, but he figured he must have simply missed them when the doctor appeared beside him, and plucked the offending item out of his mouth. With a plate (aka makeshift-ashtray) he'd brought over with him, he stubbed the cigarette out, then placed it on the nearest surface and turned back to Will.

"They're killing you."

The way he stated it, so matter-of-factly, made Will want to tell him to get off of his high horse. Even though he knew he was right, completely and undeniably, the fact was that they helped him relax in ways nothing else he'd found had, and so he stuck with them. And who was Hannibal to judge him for that? A knowledgeable doctor? A caring friend? It frustrated Will unnecessarily. _Just who did he think he was?_

He scoffed and turned back to the window, not forgetting to take notice of how Hannibal's dreadfully hot stare still bore into him, making his face tingle pink. He wasn't embarrassed. He was a grown man, who'd picked up a bad habit. He was more than sure that, if he went digging into Hannibal's past, he'd find more than a few of his own. So why was he feeling so vulnerable all of a sudden? How inane.

"It isn't just your work that's driven you to this point," Hannibal once again stated, like he knew everything in the world - like he understood Will better than he did himself. "You're missing something else."

Will tried to shake him off, tried to tell him to drop it, or that nothing was awry, but he couldn't. He just stood, feeling as Hannibal's eyes fell to scan his whole body, then landed once more on the side of his face. In a familiar turn of events, Hannibal softly sniffed his aroma, taking in his scent, and Will chuckled nervously. The last time he'd done this, he subconsciously recalled, he'd diagnosed him with an auto-immune disease.

"Did you just smell me?" He repeated his exact words, in the original tone. Only this time, he lacked the bite he'd had the first time, and it made him feel afraid. Not of Hannibal, not of what he might _do_  necessarily, but of what he might uncover. And, seemingly, he did. His eyebrows rose, telling, and Will found it difficult not to give in to the overwhelming urge to shut his eyes and pretend he'd left.

"Will..." Hannibal sounded dark, and Will knew he knew. He didn't want him to know, or at least didn't want him to say it out loud, because that made it real, so he went to walk off somewhere unknown and out of earshot, but a hand caught ahold of his wrist and held him in place. He still didn't look back, too embarrassed.

Hannibal's breathing was audible. Not gross panting, like an older dog might do after a long walk, but it sounded hot, dangerous, and Will could almost feel it on him, even though there was still a good meter and a half or so between them. He waited for Hannibal to speak once more, and found himself waiting longer than he'd anticipated. It was excruciating.

"Will," he sounded more sure of himself now, less gaping, less staring. "I want you to look at me."

Will half-shook his head, indicating a solid 'no' on that front. A frustrated sigh escaped Hannibal's lips, and he pulled a little on his wrist. He didn't have to say it, because Will could hear it already, the dreaded request, repeated yet again: "Look at me."

He sighed himself and resigned, looking back at Hannibal, who he found less pitying, more... wanton? Surely not. Surely he was just projecting his own issues onto Hannibal, because that made sense. Sure, they were talking about it - well, they were breaching the topic at least - so it was logical that he'd associate Hannibal with it.

"Don't," he warned, voice breathier than he'd meant it to be.

"Don't what, Will?" Hannibal responded, holding his eye, afraid that if he so much as blinked he'd lose the record-breaking eye contact they were having, "What don't you want me to do?"

"Don't give me that look," Will explained, shaking his head a little to show his agitation, "Like you're worried about me or something. I'm not dying, I just haven't... gotten any, for a while."

Hannibal nodded, looking solemn for a moment, then inquired, without letting his arm go, "What about Doctor Bloom?"

Will scoffed. He spoke in a borderline patronising tone. "What _about_  Doctor Bloom?"

Hannibal noted the impersonal reiteration of her title, and took that as his answer. "Nobody? Not even for a night?"

"Nobody," Will repeated, then chuckled, "Way to rub it in."

Hannibal eyed him for a moment. He was briefly afraid he was going to break and give him _the look_ , only he didn't. Will would have hated the look more than any other outcome, if he was honest. The look was pity; the look told him Hannibal felt sorry for him, and he couldn't accept that. Hannibal hadn't said he was sorry once in their entire time of knowing each other, so why should his eyes start saying it now?

Will went to shake his hand off, but didn't. He went to walk away as initially intended, but he didn't. Part of him wanted the subject matter to be over, and for them to go back to regular therapy, but he really didn't. Half due to confusion with himself for being so torn and half due to not knowing why Hannibal hadn't released him yet, Will simply furrowed his brow and gave a small shake of his head, silently asking 'what's happening?' but not quite knowing who he expected his response from.

Seemingly similarly taken aback, Hannibal looked at him with wide eyes, his eyebrows raised. He looked... something. God, it felt like Will was losing his words - no, scratch that, all capabilities he'd once had - that day, and there was nothing to be done about it. He resigned to looking at Hannibal, testing when he'd be able to move himself once more, or at the very least when Hannibal's trance would break.

Neither happened.

They each could only wait and, _wow, when had it gotten so hot?_ Will's face flushed, he was sure, and though he couldn't see himself, he knew he must have looked like an idiot. At the very least, he knew he felt like one when Hannibal finally started moving again, only now he wasn't moving away, but rather towards him, and rather more rapidly than expected. His eyes were on Will's lips, his target in sight, and he was nearing, faster, nearer still-

"Woah," Will turned his head instinctively, having apparently regained control over his neck. Now, of all times, he chose to do the wrong thing with it. He chuckled, sounding unintentionally frightened, and shook his head, explaining, "Smoker's breath, remember."

Will hated himself when he saw how sheepish Hannibal became, in an instant. His face had gone from _yes_ , nervous, but excited and tingling with anticipation, as cliché as it was. Now, he looked through Will with hollow eyes, and Will'd felt the sting of rejection before to know exactly how he was feeling right about now. He sucked in a breath through his teeth and held it, willing once more for himself to disappear.

"Will," Hannibal's voice broke the silence, and Will felt like he was falling into the Pacific beneath them, "Do you want this?"

Will hesitated. He couldn't say why, but he did. His eyes scrambled between Hannibal's left and right, searching for any sort of loathing or jest which would indicate a positive response wouldn't be well taken, but found nothing. He finally released his breath, then let himself nod. Maybe he was crazy hopeful, but he thought he saw the corners of Hannibal's mouth perk up at this. The doctor brought a hand gently to rest on his face, cupping both his jaw and the fat of his cheek, and ran his fingers down his jawline in an affectionate gesture. Then, he kissed him.

Will was ashamed. At first, he was stone. He felt cold - knew he felt cold to the touch, and was reluctant to kiss Hannibal back with any sort of haste imaginable, but then he couldn't stop himself. As though with the greatest of all changes, he went from stone to clay, and found himself molding into the shape of Hannibal - his body curving into his, his mouth letting Hannibal move him however he so wanted. It was fantastic, but not quite enough.

He quickly reached down between them, forcing his body away from Hannibal's - against the magnetic force they'd formed in the past however long it'd been - and went right to undo his trousers. To his dismay, Hannibal's hands caught his and he broke their kiss to look him in the eye, breathe shakily, and shake his head.  
"No," the older man said, "not now, Will."

Will was admittedly disappointed, but recognised that there was no consent given, and so dropped the subject almost entirely. Only when Hannibal noticed him preoccupied in his mind did he take to ducking his head into Will's neck, pressing little shadows of kisses there, and explaining further, appearing to have regained his breath.

"I have another patient in five minutes," he stated, and with a look at the clock Will wondered how he could have never realised. Of course: he had the hour, from half two til half three, and then Hannibal had to see another man Will believed he'd seen a handful of times before, on the rare occasions he was late to their appointment and so bumped into Will outside.

"I suppose I'll have to get going then?" He said, voice lusty, but only half-teasing. "We'll have to reschedule, Doctor Lecter. And soon."

Hannibal hummed darkly in agreement. "Quite. Immediately: does tomorrow work for you?"

Will smirked, proud of how he'd reduced Hannibal to this. Well, strictly speaking, he supposed it wasn't so much _him_  as it was his cigarette playing on Hannibal's pet peeves, but it wasn't Will's priority to correct this. Either way, they'd gotten where they were now, and it was more than worth anything along the way. He chuckled as the final patch of kisses Hannibal lay onto his neck roughly formed a wet patch of a heart, and then he pulled away and sought his jacket.

He managed to dress and recollect himself in a silent room. Despite this, he could feel Hannibal's eyes on him the whole time, and in effect could still feel how his hands had been running down him - across him, everywhere - just moments ago. He couldn't stop himself smiling as he looked back at Hannibal and his suspicions were deemed correct. He nodded, then waited for the doctor to remember he was supposed to be showing him out of the patient's exit.

"Here you go," Hannibal spoke soft, but his tone had a rough edge to it. He ushered Will out with a hand firmly on the base of his spine, and somehow Will knew to turn back so he could kiss him one final time before their departure. "Tomorrow, then."

"Tomorrow." He agreed, beaming from ear to ear, and then took his leave.

He smiled the entire way down to his car, and then some when he clambered into the driver's seat. He sat briefly, not doing anything, only looking up at Hannibal's office. Then, kicking himself forcefully into action, he began searching simultaneously for his keys and another cigarette to light. The former he found rather easily; the latter he didn't find at all.

In their rendezvous, Will realised, Hannibal had done what he'd wanted. The point was initially to rid Will of the terrible, destructive cigarette hanging from his lips, and he'd done it. Minorly panicking, he hoped now they'd gone and finally broken the platonic ice, their kiss had meant more to Hannibal than simply a therapy session, though he supposed finding that out would just have to wait until tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> relatively unedited, but I had fun making this. thanks for reading, and feel free to leave any suggestions for future fics/one-shots/drabbles in the comments :)


End file.
